


Change

by Bettina (skybs)



Category: Backstreet Boys, NSYNC, Popslash
Genre: Crossover, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-16
Updated: 2011-09-16
Packaged: 2017-10-23 19:20:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/253965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skybs/pseuds/Bettina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nick needs something different.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Change

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to jewelianna for the beta. [Originally published August 2004](http://users.livejournal.com/_bettina_/240880.html).

They meet at a party in some club and even though they never really hung out together, Joey's just the kind of guy to come up to him, hug him, and yell "Hey, Nick, it's good to see you" in his ear. It's strange that he doesn't think it's weird. It's really kind of comforting and the big happy smile on Joey's face is the best thing he has seen in the last few weeks.

He had never thought that the thing with Paris could blow up in his face quite like it did, but their relationship was all kinds of weird and half the time, he didn't have a clue what was going on anyway. He grins at Joey and pushes the unpleasant thoughts away. He _is_ here to have fun, after all.

It's loud and smoky in the club; the music pulsing through his body. He leans closer to Joey. "What's up?" he shouts and he can't even hear himself.

It doesn't seem as if Joey can hear him either. He just grins and points at the cocktail he holds in his hand. Nick laughs and nods. He follows Joey to the bar and orders something that is not sweet and fruity, because even though he likes cocktails, he is kind of sick of the sticky sweetness of sugar right now.

He takes a sip of the amber liquid in his glass and the sharp sting in his throat is a welcome change. He leans back at the bar, looking around, and sees familiar faces, the same familiar faces he has seen all his life. Nothing really changes, but everything is different. For a second he wonders what they see when they look at him, but then he knows it doesn't matter. They are just as messed up as he is.

Someone bumps into him and when he turns his head he sees Joey standing next to him, holding a different glass than before. Nick almost forgotten about him, but he's glad Joey's still there.

Joey mouths something and he thinks Joey's asking him to dance. He nods, putting the empty glass on the bar behind him, and follows Joey the second time this night. It almost seems like a habit.

They end up at the dance floor, right next to some girl with half of her ass hanging out of her pants. The sight is oddly fascinating and he sees Joey lick his lips. _Men are pigs,_ he thinks, raising an eyebrow at Joey. Joey just laughs and steps closer, grinding against the girl.

He rolls his eyes, but he's grinning. _Men like to be pigs,_ he remembers some girl saying to him, _and women know it._ He thinks it's probably true.

Moving his body to the music in a non-choreographed way is freeing, but it also makes him feel alone. At first he thought it was odd that he missed it so much, but Howie said it so much better. It's not so much the choreography he missed, but the boys, and he can't wait to be on tour with them again.

Nick puts his hand on some girl's hips, pulling her closer to dance. She's pretty: dark hair, shorter than Paris', and with a little bit more meat on her ribs. He's all about different right now. Joey gives him a thumbs up and he doesn't want to think why he reacts more to Joey than to the girl in his arms. It doesn't matter anyway.

The night is long with plenty of alcohol and when he finally stumbles out of the club he can see the first rays of light in the distance. It's going to be a beautiful sunrise. He fumbles with his car keys, but before he can even wonder where he parked his car someone snatches the keys out of his hand.

"Hey," he says without much heat. He's tired and there's not much energy left after dancing away the night.

"I don't think you should be driving." It's Joey again, looking at him with amusement. Nick can't remember ever seeing Joey sad or angry; he seems to be happy all the time, which is a nice change, too.

"And you are?"

"No," Joey points at some guy on the other side of the parking lot, "but he is."

He looks first at the guy, who waves at him, and then looks back at Joey. "Okay," he mumbles, letting himself be steered towards a big, dark blue car.

Nick climbs in after Joey with almost no help from Joey's friend. Inside it's nice and comfortable and he falls asleep immediately. The next thing he knows is when someone nudges his side.

"What?" he rasps, without opening his eyes. He is leaning against someone's shoulder. It's warm and it smells like home. Or at least, close to what he imagines home would smell like.

"Come on," Joey says close to his ear, his voice low. He blinks stupidly at Joey, wiping his chin to check if he had drooled on Joey's shoulder. "Get up and then you can go back to sleep in a nice bed."

His mind is fuzzy, as if someone had wrapped it in cotton, but he finally sits up. "Where are we?"

"My place."

It should feel weird, like so many things in the past few hours, to end up at Joey's house, but it doesn't. It feels right and nice.

Getting out of the car is harder than it looks, but with Joey's help he manages without falling on his face, which he considers a major accomplishment. Joey has his arm wrapped around Nick's waist, guiding him to the front door, and he only stumbles a couple times. Finally they are in the house, but it takes another five minutes for Joey to drag him to one of the guest rooms.

"Do you need help... with your clothes?"

Nick shakes his head, because really, he's old enough to get out of his clothes on his own. He sits down on the big bed in the middle of the room and fumbles with the hem of his t-shirt. He doesn't know how, but he gets tangled up in the fabric and can't find his way out of it. He hears Joey sigh.

"Put your arms in the air."

He should protest, but he doesn't. He feels like a small kid as he lifts up his arms and Joey's pulling off his t-shirt. "Thanks," he mumbles, looking up and there's something in Joey's dark eyes. He can't identify it, he always had trouble figuring out people's expressions, but it's something good. Nice and comfortable. And without ever thinking about it, he struggles to his feet, holding onto Joey's arm, pressing his lips against Joey's.

Joey's lips are surprisingly soft and when he feels them opening against his mouth, Nick suddenly realizes what he's doing. He breaks the kiss, shocked. He wants to step back, but there's not enough room and he falls back down on the bed, blinking up at Joey.

Joey doesn't look mad or angry, which is good, but Nick still thinks he should apologize. He opens his mouth, but there's no sound coming out. He tries again, but Joey is faster. "Go to sleep," he says and then turns around, leaving the room.

Nick doesn't know what to do, but he is tired, so he takes off his shoes and pulls down his jeans before he gets under the sheets. There's enough time to sort everything out when he wakes up.

Nick knows exactly where he is when he wakes up; no confusion at the strange bed he slept in, no memory loss at what had happened last night. He opens his eyes and he knows, cringing at his own stupidity.

Kissing Joey. What was he thinking?

He turns on his back, staring at the ceiling and thinking about not getting out of the bed for another few hours. But eventually he has to get up. It isn't his house, after all, and he thinks Joey would mind him living in the guest room.

He finds the bathroom after a short search. The hot water pounding down on his body is relaxing, easing a little bit of the tension he feels. His stomach is still queasy, though, from all the alcohol. He doesn't think he could eat anything, but coffee sounds fantastic. He steps out of the shower, towels himself off, and goes back to the guest room to get his clothes.

His clothes smell gross, smoky and sweaty, but he doesn't have anything else so he puts them on and makes his way to the kitchen. It's easy to find--he just follows the heady coffee aroma.

Joey is no where in sight, but the table is set and despite the vaguely sick feeling, Nick's stomach starts to rumble at the sight of all the food on the table. He gets himself a cup of coffee and snatches a piece of toast, because it can't be that bad when he's feeling hungry.

"You're up!"

Joey's voice startles him and he feels like a kid getting caught with his hand in the cookie jar. His hand is about to butter the toast, though, and he's not a kid anymore. "Yeah," he replies, feeling a bit better when he sees Joey smiling at him. "Uh, thanks for letting me crash here."

"No problem." Joey gets himself a cup of coffee and sits down next to him. "Hungover?"

"A little bit," he admits, but he's also surprised. Usually after a night like that his head is about to explode. Maybe it's the dancing all night long part or maybe just the presence of Joey, but he doesn't feel all that bad and his stomach likes the food, which is a very good thing.

They eat in silence and Nick can't help glancing at Joey every few seconds. He doesn't look any different from last night, clean shaven for his Broadway gig, and with the same glimmer of amusement in his eyes. He wonders if Joey remembers the kiss and decides that he probably does. Joey wasn't as drunk as he was.

He wants to say something, but doesn't know how. The words in his head don't make much sense and apologizing doesn't feel right. He actually liked the kiss, liked being close to Joey. Being drunk heightened his senses, he thinks, because he still can remember the feel of Joey's lips beneath his and how warm and safe he felt.

"About last night," he starts to say, but Joey interrupts him with a wave of his hand.

"Don't say you're sorry, okay?" Joey's tone is serious and for once he's not smiling. It's disconcerting in a strange way. "Because I'm not."

Nick stares, mouth open. "You're not?"

"Nope," Joey says and it's the old Joey again, grinning and happy. "I wouldn't have minded a little bit, you know, more."

"Oh," is all he can say, because this is not what he had expected. He likes it nonetheless, because it's Joey and it's as different from Paris as he can imagine.

He watches Joey get up, putting his mug in the sink. "So," Joey says, turning back to him, leaning against the counter. "What are we going to do now?"

Nick shrugs, studying his empty plate. He wouldn't have minded a little bit more than just kiss. He only stopped because he had thought Joey would be angry. Nick remembers how Joey's mouth had opened willingly and he can't help licking his lips.

He lifts his head to look at Joey and yeah, he wants this. "Maybe, we could, you know, start over or something." He knows he must sound like a dork, but Joey looks very pleased.

"I'd like that."

"You do?" Nick can't quite believe it.

"Yeah."

"Cool." He's grinning and then Joey is right in front of him, leaning down, kissing him and it's so good, better than the night before, because this time he isn't drunk. He closes his eyes and lets himself feel. Their lips pressing together, the hint of tongue, and then more, when he finally opens his mouth, and it's an explosion of impressions. Joey is a good kisser, sharp and comforting and so damn different to Paris' sugar-coated kisses.

It won't last, Nick knows, but it's a nice change and probably the best thing that could have happened to him. He will enjoy every minute of it and who knows? Maybe it's going to be a lot more than just a thing, but right now it's all about the change and nothing more.

  
~End~


End file.
